


Music Down the Canyon

by dietplainlite



Series: The Great Big No [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Makeup Sex, No Pregnancy, Slightly angsty fluff, Vaginal Sex, highly emotional fucking, kind of a pre epilogue, or a missing scene, the great big no universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24786922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: Set in the Great Big No universe, what happened when Rey and Kylo get home from the secret show.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The Great Big No [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804639
Comments: 48
Kudos: 141





	Music Down the Canyon

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the lyrics Rey and Kylo Ben quote at each other are from "Ladies of the Canyon" by Joni Mitchell.

The last time Rey was in his house in Manhattan Beach was the second day of December. She left before he did, because she had come to hate leaving-for-the-airport goodbyes as much as she hated airport goodbyes. She ended up stuck in traffic, crying in her car on the 405 and calling herself stupid, since she would be seeing him again in less than a week. Getting your brains fucked out for five days straight can have that effect. 

When she left that morning she never imagined it would be more than two months before she would return. After New Year’s Eve she thought she would never return. 

Everything looks the same as they pass through the ground floor and up the stairs to the main level. The smell down there, of the wood and the carpet, the sound of their feet on the stairs and the way the fourth one up creaked all brought back a rush of memories. She hasn’t spent much time here, relatively, but the times she has been here were so intense that they’re indelible. 

When he turns on the row of track lighting in the living room, she’s met with change. The walls are bare of art and there are boxes stacked everywhere, labelled in neat handwriting that is probably Lorna’s. 

“You’re moving?” she asks. “I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not,” he shrugs as he goes to the bar cart, which hasn’t been packed up. “This house was never really what I wanted, just what I thought I should have. Now’s as good a time as any to sell.”

It makes sense, but Rey can’t help but feel sad about it. They kissed for the first time in this house. “Have you already bought something?” she asks. “Oh shit, are you moving to New York permanently?” 

He finishes pouring two bourbons and hands one to her. “I found a place in Laurel Canyon that suits me better.”

“Cats and babies ‘round your feet?” she says. 

He smiles and looks down. “All are fat and none are thin.”

She looks at him over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. He downs his in one shot. She doesn’t understand why she’s so nervous. They’d fallen back into each other like they’d never been apart earlier tonight. They should have been all over each other the second they got in the door. 

He puts his empty glass on the counter and she follows him out onto the deck, still nursing her drink. She’s glad he stopped at one. She may never get over how comically low his tolerance is. 

The night they’d met for the second time, on another deck, he was pretty wasted. Neither of them could have remotely grasped the gravity of that coincidence. 

The wind off the ocean is cold and she takes the opportunity to hold him. She’s still wearing his hoodie but her legs are bare and really, she wants to be near him. It doesn’t quite feel real, even when her arms are around him and she’s listening to his heart thundering in his chest. The moon is full and high and the sound of the surf lulls her back to that last night here. They watched the sunset from the deck outside his room and then spent the whole night out there, bundled up under a million comforters and blankets. She told him what stars would be out if the city wasn’t so bright, based on the positions of stars that were visible. She doesn’t remember how many times they fucked that night but she does remember when she had been pointing out where Gemini should be and she had looked over to find him staring at her as though she were responsible for putting the stars up there. 

She looks up at his face and finds him looking like that at her now. 

"I don't think I was this nervous our first time."

God, their first time. Thinking about it--something she’s done often in the past few weeks--creates a serious storm of sadness, desire, and love that makes her heart want to burst from her chest. She had been so nervous, so fascinated with him and his loft, so in love already without realizing it. It feels like years ago rather than a few months. 

“Let’s go up to your room,” she says. 

There are no packed boxes in his room, though there are clothes scattered on the floor and the bed. He’s usually not this messy. 

He runs his hand through his hair. “I had a little trouble figuring out what to wear tonight.”

While he’s clearing the bed Rey opens the sliding door. “I want to hear the ocean,” she says. “The background noise in the canyon will be so much different.”

“I’m not moving for another two weeks.”

“I guess we’ll have to listen to the ocean a lot.”

“All the time.”

“And you still need to teach me to swim.”

“It’s too cold.” He gets on the bed, leaning back against the headboard as he watches her.. “But the new place has a heated pool.”

Rey gets on the bed, sitting next to him. “What else does it have?” 

“Well, it’s way back in the trees and looks like it’s part of the hill, but also like it could slide down it at any minute. All windows and decks but more like a lake cabin that’s been added onto ten times, not like a glass box house. Cedar shakes on the outside, exposed beams and brick inside. Hasn’t been updated since like 1969. The real estate agent said the wildflowers will be ridiculous not long after I move in. There’s already a recording studio and it’s better than the one here, and an herb garden though you’re probably going to have to take care of that.”

“Oh? Are you going to pay me for my gardening services?” She takes his big hand in his and runs her fingertips along his calluses. 

He looks down at her hand pressed against his. “I think I kind of figured that maybe if you were into it you could possibly consider living there too.”

“Oh.”

“Listen I know we just got back together and we weren't together for that long before but --"

"Yes," Rey says.

He looks up at her. "What?"

"Of course I'll move in with you."

"You will?"

"Yeah. Laurel Canyon is so much cooler than Brentwood." 

He laughs and puts his arm around her waist, pulling her so that she straddles his legs, and they both go quiet. She's overwhelmed by him, so solid underneath her, so warm and alive and present. The ocean thrums in the distance, inexorable, vast and unknown as their future. She leans down and kisses him, all hesitancy gone. His hand goes into her hair immediately and he sits up so that she's in his lap, held close to him by his other arm. He's so good at kissing; how had she gone without this for so long and survived?

She fights her way out of his hoodie and then he's got her on her back, hiking up her dress and pulling down her panties. She thought when she came over that she wanted to draw this out, but when he parts her legs and puts his mouth on her, she realizes how stupid that was. She wants him now. She's so ready. Has been ready. Has never not been ready. 

This may be her favorite part of fucking him, as much as she loves his dick. Besides the fact that he's very good at it, there's something about how much he loves it, how there's no expectation to reciprocate, the fact that he will do it at any time, whether she's just stepped off stage from a show or has just stepped out of the shower. He’s even done it after coming inside her, something that shocked her at first but she’d come to find incredibly hot. 

He says her name and her mind comes back to the present. She tugs on his collar to pull him back toward her, so she can kiss him again. Maybe this is actually her favorite part of fucking him. 

“I missed this,” she says, pulling his shirt over his head. He shivers as she runs her hands down his chest. 

“What did you miss most?” he whispers, then kisses his way down her neck to her collarbone. She’s still wearing her dress but he seems to not mind. She likes the way the silk feels against her skin as it slides under his hands, and all he has to do is slip the strap down her shoulder to get access to her breast, which he does, taking her nipple into his mouth. He’s so hard against her, and the friction of his jeans against her clit is on the verge of finishing the job she wouldn’t let him finish with his mouth. 

“I miss your dick.”

“Good,” he says.

“So why are your pants still on?”

He laughs and sits back on his heels. This, truly, is the best part of fucking him, she decides. It’s fun. Even when things are intense, or impossibly soft, even when they end up having sex after an argument, they can usually laugh about something. 

She laughs now as he makes a show of slowly unzipping his jeans, but the laugh dies when he pulls out his dick.

It's not like she had forgotten how big it is, she’s just so glad to see it. She sits up and pushes him onto his back. They waste no time getting him completely naked. 

“Take your hair down,” he says. 

“Why?”

“I like the way it feels on my chest when you ride me.”

She reaches up and pulls out the hair tie holding her hair in a bun.

“Take your dress off.”

This is another thing she loves. Control flows back and forth between them as they switch roles, one demanding things, one complying, one begging to be commanded, or begging to command. She inches her dress up above her thighs and then pulls it over her head, revealing her body to him for the first time since New Year’s Eve. Her nipples tighten further in the cool breeze coming in the open door, but when she looks down at him again, tears are streaming down his face. 

“Ben!” she says, trying the name out. It feels strange, but he told her on the way to their cars earlier that he’s thinking about going back to his old name. He puts his hand over his face and sobs. 

“Hey,” she says, laying down beside him. She pulls the covers over both of them and holds him while he cries. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I never thought you’d be here again and I’ve been so fucking miserable. I bought that house thinking how much you would like it even though I didn’t think I’d ever talk to you again, and every day since, I’ve felt like a fucking idiot and now you’re here and you said you’d move in and it’s so much.”

“Shhh. We can just sleep, okay?” She takes his hand away from his face and kisses him on his salty mouth. “We’ve got so much time.”

He nods and turns to his side, wrapping his body around her. 

Of all the ways she thought tonight would go, this is the most surprising. 

* * *

She wakes up, cold and disoriented. For the first few seconds she thinks she’s back on tour, since the ceiling is not hers, then she panics, thinking the whole thing has been a dream. Not just last night but the last six months. 

Then the sound of the tide coming in seeps into her consciousness, along with the sweet smell of a clove cigarette drifting in from the deck and she knows where she is, knows that it’s real. She gets out of bed and grabs the first item of clothing she sees--a worn out grey sweater--and goes out on the deck. 

It’s dawn, and while they can’t watch the sunrise from this side of the house, the light always does spectacular things to the sky, the water, and the sand. The world never feels more peaceful than by the ocean at dawn, even when the waves are high. 

Kylo--Ben--is sitting in one of the deck chairs smoking. He looks at her sheepishly and she casually plucks the cigarette from his hand and takes a drag. 

“When did you start smoking?”

“I didn’t, really,” she says, coughing delicately and handing it back. “I bought a pack when I was on tour because your lips tasted like them the first time we kissed.”

“That may be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” He takes another drag then looks at her sharply. “Wait a second…’looking for the taste of you in all the wrong places, sifting through the waste of us to try to fill the spaces…’”

“Yeah,” she says. That line in “Windrider” was the most blatantly about him, though in hindsight, the whole thing really was. It made promoting the single and the album a particular brand of hell she never wants to go through again.

She shivers and he scoots over, inviting her to sit with him, but she shakes her head. “It’s too cold and I don’t want to fuck out here.”

She smiles at the shock on his face, then turns back toward the door, taking the sweater back off on her way inside. 

He catches up with her before she reaches the bed, pulling her close against his chest and kissing her neck, his hands all over her body. There’s no chance to overthink things now, as he turns her to face him and takes her face in his hands. “I hope you don’t have plans today,” he says. 

“I have a radio interview at noon,”

“No you don’t; it’s Sunday.”

“Oh, right,” she says as she lays back on the bed.

He smiles as he follows her, bracing himself above her on his hands and knees. “You cleared your calendar, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” He looks at her doubtfully and she relents. “Okay yes but because however things went last night I knew I wouldn’t be up to doing anything.”

He leans down to kiss her. His hand finds its way to her pussy and he slips a finger inside easily. “You’re so fucking wet already.”

“I want you,” she says. 

His eyes light up and he smiles as he pushes her legs open further and slides inside her, all in one movement. It’s a thrill, and a shock, and a wave of relief washes through her as she buries her face in the crook of his neck, willing herself not to cry. It’s so much, physically and emotionally. The last day, including this moment, has been nothing like she imagined, but so much more. 

“I love you,” she says. 

“I love you so much.” 

His voice is so soft, his breath on her ear sending tingles down her spine. 

She shifts, lifting her right hip slightly as if she’s going to turn over, a signal that she wants to be on top. He obliges, rolling over onto his back. She doesn’t sink back on him right away, though. She takes her time, kissing along his collarbones and caressing his sides, his belly, he tops of his thighs, not stopping until he’s begging her to keep fucking him, which she is more than happy to do. 

He feels so much bigger in this position and while she needs a moment to adjust, she uses the time to just look at him. The way he gazes up at her is so soft, full of love, and joy, and ultimately trust. He trusts her again and that feels as amazing as the knowledge that he loves her. 

He has his hands on her hips, just below her waist, his thumbs caressing her belly, one sliding lower until it reaches her clit. He presses down and she gasps. It’s all the incentive she needs to start moving. She angles forward as she rides him--the only way he can go as deep as he wants this way--her hands braced on his chest. When she leans down to kiss him he holds her there, thrusting into her hard enough to make her eyes roll. Her clit rubs against his pubic bone in just the right spot so that she doesn’t even have to move, but she wants to, and she wants to see his face. 

“Fuck,” she says, breaking free. She sits up again so she can ride him, aware she’s going to be sore as hell later but not caring. For a moment she thinks she should slow down, to savor this, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, obliterating all thought. He groans and holds her hips down as he thrusts hard into her one more time as he comes. 

“I love you,” he says, when he can speak. He pulls her toward him and wraps his arms around her again. She thinks about how silly she was, thinking she should savor it, as though she wouldn’t have another chance. She’s so used to not being able to hold onto things. 

“I love you, too, but I’m cold.” 

He groans and lets go of her so that she can snuggle beside him and pull up the duvet. 

“Maybe I should shut the doors,” he says.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’m fine like this.”

“Do you want to go out for breakfast later?” 

She shakes her head. 

“I don’t have eggs or milk, you know.”

“Fruit is fine,” she says, snuggling closer to him. 

He laughs and they lie there, his hand stroking her hair, listening to the surf and the seagulls. She’s drifting off when he speaks again. 

“You know when I first got back here from my mom’s, I laid around listening to “Faithfully” on repeat for days.”

“You hate Journey.”

“Not really. I just associate that song with my dad. He’d get melancholy when my mom was away, smoking weed and listening to it.”

“That’s actually really sweet.”

“I know that now. Back then I thought it was cheesy because I never thought I’d feel that way about anyone.”

Rey smiles and hides her face in his side. Then she sits up, struck by an idea. “Oh my god. Since you’re unemployed you can definitely go on tour with me, right?” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I want few things more.”

“I guess I have no choice.”

“Excellent,” she says, laying back down with her head on his chest. “You can help me figure out my rider.”

“Sure thing. And I know you aren’t too keen to leave the house today but do you want to go look at our house later?”

“Yes,” she says, drowsily. “Filigree on leaf and vine.”

“Vine and leaf are filigree,” he whispers. 

She fights sleep--what is a dream compared with this bliss?--but the sound of the surf, the beat of his heart coalesce as she inhales. She exhales. Everything will be fine. 


End file.
